


there's always karma (for playing god)

by WhimsicalMercy



Series: MCYT December except it's not festive [14]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Mentioned Darryl Noveschosch, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Mentioned Jschlatt, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Temporary Character Death, not explicit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMercy/pseuds/WhimsicalMercy
Summary: This was his punishment after all. George hadn’t deserved to die, but the universe decided that Dream had played God too much. If anyone deserved to die, it should have been Dream. He told SapNap that once, during an afternoon when they had gotten out of their rooms. He was sitting in George’s favorite spot, a little window seat, with the blanket Techno gifted him thrown over his shoulders. Rain was falling from the sky by the buckets, the dirt not being able to absorb all the water so quickly. They had just gone through a bit of a dry spell after all. He watched the droplets hit the glass and stared hard at the lilacs that they had planted the day George got his colorblind glasses.The respawn system failed Dream finally. He thinks it's karma.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: MCYT December except it's not festive [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036191
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	there's always karma (for playing god)

**Author's Note:**

> yaaaaaay a sequel. This is a sequel to [my day 3 fic "being the lucky ones (isn't always good)"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870817) and it's for day 15's prompt of "Mutual Friend/Family death" :) Enjoy
> 
> TW: Grief, suicidal thoughts/ideation, survivor's guilt
> 
> All characters used in this are based purely on their fictional personas. If any of the creators decide they are not comfortable with fanworks, this work will be taken down immediately to respect their wishes. I also ask that this work is not linked anywhere or intentionally shared with any of the creators mentioned.

It’s been 9 months.

“ _I hope he doesn’t respawn_ ” is what Tommy said. It’s what Tommy wanted, he wanted George to be dead and gone, all because he hated Dream. It was Dream’s fault, he had gotten too cocky, too confident in the respawn system. After all, none of them had died in the years of them knowing each other, even with Manhunt and their general recklessness. He thinks back to the cruel words and knows he probably deserved this. He’s done so much harm to this world and land that he’s not sure it could be considered his own anymore. 

After all, he was the one to crack down on rules, he was the one to give Wilbur the TNT, he was the one to help Schlatt, he exiled Tommy- The list doesn’t end. He always thought that his payment for the things he just took and took was going to be his own life. He thought that one day, the universe would be tired of giving to him, tired of letting him hurt things, and put an end to his cycle of respawns. But no, he was too lucky. It was his friends that paid the price for his recklessness, day after day, and he was only just realizing it.

It made sense. He took the things that were the most important to people; Wilbur’s country, Tommy’s discs, Tubbo’s best friend, Techno’s brothers, Phil’s kids and flight feathers. He kept taking and taking and now the universe had taken the most important thing from him and SapNap. George, it took George and he stopped taking. He couldn't. He was too tired. He went home, to the houses that they kept hidden. He told Tubbo to do what he wanted, that Tommy no longer needed to be exiled, he let Phil regrow his feathers and fly again.

He spent hours upon hours curled up in George’s room, SapNap checking in to make sure that he was eating, drinking, bathing. They clung together in the middle of the night, the room too cold even with a fire going and countless blankets. The day he realized it no longer smelled like George, Dream went out into a field and screamed until his voice gave out. SapNap found him later and brought him home, the two taking comfort in each other even as it felt as if part of them was missing. 

Part of them was missing, it wouldn’t ever return. It had always been the three of them after they lost everything. They had done everything together, had raced each other to the Strongholds of the world, and tried to kill each other before returning home for the night. The last time it hadn’t been the three of them was before Dream set down his roots in the village, young and naive. George was so ingrained in their lives that him being gone was like a gaping wound that would never heal, like a missing limb or being blind. 

With him gone, their dynamic was completely reversed. He knew it was due to grief, his inability to do anything other than waste away. He needed someone to take care of him since he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He usually was the one taking care of his friends and he had failed. He also knew that SapNap needed to be able to be busy. He needed to be able to clean and care for someone. The times that he wasn’t, he was sobbing into Dream’s shoulder or bruising his fists against the worn-out training dummies they had made years ago. 

The worst part wasn’t the crushing despair or the suffocating feeling that he had let someone down ( _George, he let George down, he had promised to keep him safe-_ ), it was the pity. It was Tommy apologizing in tears, the boy’s eyes red-rimmed and face flushed once he realized what had happened, Tubbo offering his quiet condolences with a soft smile, and Bad avoiding them like the plague. They received materials and food and whatever else on their front porch from various people. The only person who hadn’t pitied them was Technoblade and Philza.

He’s glad, he would feel awful on the receiving end of Techno and Phil’s pity, but he knew why. He was the reason Wilbur was driven to insanity, he was the reason that Wilbur was dead. George’s death had been karma, it seemed. Even when Phil told him that he was ridiculous the one time they crossed paths or when he found a soft blue blanket on their porch, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were secretly happy. SapNap thought he was ridiculous, saying that they didn’t pity him, they felt empathy.

It sounded fake.

This was his punishment after all. George hadn’t deserved to die, but the universe decided that Dream had played God too much. If anyone deserved to die, it should have been Dream. He told SapNap that once, during an afternoon when they had gotten out of their rooms. He was sitting in George’s favorite spot, a little window seat, with the blanket Techno gifted him thrown over his shoulders. Rain was falling from the sky by the buckets, the dirt not being able to absorb all the water so quickly. They had just gone through a bit of a dry spell after all. He watched the droplets hit the glass and stared hard at the lilacs that they had planted the day George got his colorblind glasses.

The admission had been nearly silent, his voice hoarse as he hadn’t spoken in days. It happened more frequently and for longer periods of time, he found. He just couldn’t bring himself to speak or make fun of SapNap, not without a light British voice to answer or to chime in. There had been the shattering of glass and he felt hands grip onto his shoulders. He faced his friend and his lips parted in shock at how desperate SapNap looked. The younger boy had tears flowing down his cheeks in rivers, mirroring the storm outside. They looked at each other as SapNap’s nails dug into his arms. 

“Don’t… Don’t leave me too. I can’t be alone.” SapNap whispered and Dream’s whole world tumbled. He nodded numbly and pulled his friend up against him, breathing the air as if he hadn’t been breathing before. It felt as if the air he took in was clear, after weeks of being surrounded by smoke and ash. The only other sensation similar was stepping out of a Portal after a Nether trip, the air crisp and clear. SapNap didn’t stop the self-blame, he couldn’t, but he reminded Dream of one thing:

It wasn’t just him grieving. SapNap was hurting over George’s death too, just as much as him. They were different, they grieved differently, but they were just as broken. George had been an essential part of both of them. His chest became lighter at the realization, it became easier to move and eat and function. He still didn’t leave the area around their house and most days didn’t leave the house at all, but he got out of bed now. He helped with laundry and making dinner. 

He stopped sleeping in George’s room each night, even if he and SapNap still camped out together in one of their rooms. They couldn’t shake the fear of losing each other to a bump in the night. It was an intense feeling, the fear he felt now. It smothered him and he realized that this is what most people felt for themselves. He still didn’t care about his own life, too sick with worry every time his communicator lights up with SapNap’s name and death announcement. Each time, he would sit in SapNap’s room until he appeared and wouldn’t let him out, the other man’s things be damned. A few secret messages with Phil made him realize the other man was similar, that Wilbur dying permanently had been his worst fear. 

Phil had started to come around, visiting Dream as SapNap started to leave more frequently for errands. Some days, they didn’t speak. They would just work on household chores, on taking care of the animals or repairing fences, without a single word. Other days, Dream would talk himself hoarse about anything he could think of. He’d talk and talk until his voice cracked and he needed something to drink. SapNap usually came home smiling those days.

SapNap always came home before dark, rarely staying out late for Dream’s sanity. There were very few nights when the man would get caught up by something and it would leave Dream in a suffocating daze until his friend returned. He wouldn’t be able to sleep or move from his spot next to the window until he was sure SapNap was home. It was one such nice when there was shifting upstairs that broke him out of his watch. He frowned, checking his communicator. There was no death message, nothing from SapNap other than the _‘I’m sorry, Karl and I got busy, I’ll be staying with him at 72 1069. We have a hut and torch grid set out.’_

He shot a message to Karl, asking if SapNap had died, already pulling himself up from the bench. Death messages were usually reliable but the communicator was still a piece of technology. Sure it was enchanted and universal, but still technology. Sometimes it got buggy, it’s nothing he hadn’t seen before. He pulled his off of his wrist as he climbed the stairs, checking it out carefully. He opened and closed the chat, adjusting all of his personal settings like the font and size and the volume of the alerts. Everything seemed to be in working order.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he rounded the corner into the hallway. He paused with a frown, listening as the shuffling came from George’s room. They hadn't slept there in a while, but he remembered SapNap had taken his nap there before he set off, accidentally resetting his spawn point to George’s room. He rolled his eyes and shoved open the door, mouth open to tease his friend. Instead, he froze and his communicator hit the floor with a loud clatter.

_KarlJacobs has whispered to you: What? No, Sap’s right next to me. We’re waiting for the sun to come up._

**Author's Note:**

> and the end! No promises that I'll add another part, but I'm also not going to completely avoid the idea.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated so don't be shy!


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